


Tahoe Tessie

by voicedimplosives



Series: The Critterverse [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Cryptozoology, F/M, Snorkels, flippers are hilarious
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-12
Updated: 2017-11-12
Packaged: 2019-02-01 10:33:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12703197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/voicedimplosives/pseuds/voicedimplosives
Summary: A deal is struck and flippers are donned.





	Tahoe Tessie

**Author's Note:**

> “Lake Tahoe in California-Nevada calls its monster Tahoe Tessie, or simply Tessie. While Washoe Indian legends tell of monsters inhabiting the lake, skeptics claim that Tessie witnesses are mistaking logs or waves for lake monsters. The Tahoe Research Group... came to the lake in 1984 to investigate Tessie – but with inconclusive results. Bob McCormick, who thinks Tessie may be a sturgeon, says that 'witnesses see something long, very long, usually at least 20 feet long, that moves in the water; it's very dark, smooth; it rolls through the water.'”
> 
> ######  _Field Guide to Lake Monsters, Sea Serpents, and Other Mystery Denizens of the Deep_ , Loren Coleman

#### Tahoe City, California

“What in the Sam Hill is that, darlin'?” Bucky asked, peering dubiously at Darcy, who was offering him an unfamiliar apparatus in her outstretched hand.

“Relax, dude, it's a snorkel mask and tube. How did you see underwater, back in your day? You guys didn't have goggles?”

“If you were an Olympic swimmer, maybe, or a millionaire. Otherwise you got water in your eyes, like a regular person.”

Darcy sighed. “If you're not a fan of the snorkel, you're _really_ not gonna like this next part.” Bucky tilted his head questioningly, and Darcy reached into the shopping bag she'd carried out of the sports shop in town, pulling out two black, full-coverage wet-suits. He frowned.

“For the cold,” she informed him, “The cleaning woman at the motel told me the water's about fifty degrees or so at this time of year.”

Now Bucky was blatantly staring at her like she was insane. “Darce... you do know how they kept me alive and lookin' so pretty all these years, don't you? I was frozen, angel. Cold doesn't really affect me.”

“Well yeah, but...” she paused, looking at him with thoughtfully, “There's no way it felt good, and there's no need for you suffer like that anymore.”

He smiled softly, touched by her concern, then glanced out at the dark, almost black waves of Lake Tahoe. “You sure you want to go in there, angel? We didn't have such good luck the last time we went up against a lake monster.”

“It's different, this time!” She was pulling off her beanie and her scarf. Her thick wool coat came next, then her sweater. A small pile of winter clothing was accumulating beside her. Next she settled on a nearby log, unlacing then yanking off the hiking boots she'd purchased in Sacramento. “I mean, it's a beautiful day, we'll be properly outfitted to handle the water, and we're not messing around with some stupid boat. Straight to the source! I still can't believe they wouldn't give us back the deposit for that rowboat in Vermont, by the way.”

“Well, we kind of abandoned their property,” he reasoned, peering up the sandy expanse of Lake Forest Beach to see if anyone was coming. She plucked first one sock, then the other from her feet, wiggling her toes in the cool, damp sand. She stood again and reached for her fly; Bucky licked his lips nervously at the reveal of her smooth, pale legs as she peeled her jean down her thighs and tossed them onto the pile. The tall pine trees shielding the lonely shoreline from the early morning sun stood as an impassive audience to her semi-nudity, but he still had to fight the urge to cover her up from any prying eyes that might be watching.

“Ugh, whatever. They never shoulda rented it to us in that crazy storm... well, hot stuff? You comin' in or are you just gonna stand there and ogle me all day?” She smirked, hip tossed out and her hand resting on it while she waited for him to answer.

“Shouldn't someone watch our stuff?” he asked, glancing down at her warm clothes, then back up at Darcy, still standing there eyeing him sassily in just her panties and a faded sports bra. She rolled her eyes.

“If you're really scared about that, fine. But it's seven in the morning Bucky, and there's nobody around. I think our clothes will be safe.”

Fresh out of excuses, and if he was being honest, curious to try out the snorkel contraption for himself, Bucky acquiesced, shucking his own coat, then his clothes. He caught Darcy sneaking peeks at him do it, clearly enjoying herself. When he stood before her in only his boxers and a cotton undershirt she grinned, leaning in to peck him on the cheek, and handed him the strange, springy-textured bathing costume.

“Alright, sarge, underwear also. Then you can suit up,” she purred, before pulling on her own.

He froze. "Totally naked?"

"Oh yeah, babe. Full commando." He leveled her with a challenging stare, tugging his t-shirt over his head then pushing his underwear down his legs and kicking them away. When he looked back at her, she was biting her lip, leering at him with doe eyes. He dressed in the wet suit quickly, still glancing around to see if anyone was coming. It stuck a little around the thick bicep of his vibranium arm, but yielded when he yanked on the collar impatiently. Once he was dressed in the thing, the long zipper in the front pulled up to his neck, she showed him how to use the breathing tube and they practiced for a few minutes together. When she finally deemed his method appropriate, he glanced down.

“What about your feet, angel?” he asked, and his brows drew together in consternation when she cackled deviously. She reached into the bag one more time, and pulled out four of the strangest-looking shoes that James Buchanan Barnes had ever seen in his life. “Now you're just playing a joke on me, aren't you?”

“They're called flippers,” she tittered, smacking him in the arm lightly with one of the rubbery, webbed shoes, before tossing two in front of him and reaching down to stretch the openings of her own so she could step into them. He stared at his flippers angrily for a moment, before looking up at her. The wet suit was form-fitting, and he took a moment to admire how nicely she filled it out, before huffing in amusement at the plastic mask, the tube stretching her full lips, and the bizarre footwear. She reached into the bag one more time, coming back with a disposable waterproof camera that she secured around wrist.

He peered back at the treeline, up towards the streetside entrance to the beach where they'd parked the Chevelle. Not a soul in sight. He hastily shoved his feet into the flippers, adjusting them around his ankles. He stood up, surveying himself. He felt ridiculous. He looked ridiculous. Glancing over at her, he decided that she did as well.

What a pair they made.

She grinned around the snorkel mouthpiece, then spit it out as she stepped in front of him, the floppy rubber of her flippers thudding softly on the sand as she leaned her body into his and reached up to brush her lips against his stubble-covered jaw, then his cheek, before drawing him into a passionate kiss. He returned it, his hands roaming across her hour-glass figure. He hated the way the wet suit felt, but he couldn't find much complaint with the things it was doing for Darcy's body.

“Remind me, angel,” he panted, pulling back to gaze down at her lovely lips, deep pink from his attentions, “We supposed to be hunting sea monsters or becoming them ourselves?”

She laughed again, turning and waddling her way down to the gently rolling water.

“I'll make you a deal, Bucky. We'll spend a couple hours looking for Tessie, and if we come up with nothing, the rest of the day we do whatever you want,” she offered, speaking around her mouthpiece.

“Anything?”

“Anything,” she cooed, winking at him.

“Even if it means we don't leave our motel room?” He grinned rakishly at her.

“ _Especially_ if it means that.”

“Deal,” he said, nodding his head and biting down on his own mouthpiece, then following her into the clear, frigid water.

Many, many hours later, she pulled him out of bed and drove them to a twenty-four hour pharmacy to get the photos developed. They were full of dark blurry shapes, with not an ounce of conclusive proof to be seen in the entire reel.

She shrugged unconcernedly, tossing them in the trash can on their way out, and handed him the keys to the car.

“You're not upset?” he asked, as he pulled out of the parking lot and directed the car down the quiet street, back towards their motel.

“Nah,” she answered, grinning widely at him and grasping his hand, then leaning her head back to enjoy the brisk night air rushing in through her open window. “I didn't have high hopes for Tessie. I just wanted to see you in a snorkel and flippers.”


End file.
